Wrong Side of Black
by Ezra Cross
Summary: Rewriting of TROS ending: Ben and Rey are a dyad, two sides of one coin, but a coin that no longer lives with a shadow or balance. The darkness is gone, stripped from them and the galaxy itself, so why does it feel so...empty? As Rey tries to save Ben's life, she must try to reconcile this new life. But their peace will not last, not with a few Knight survivors on the hunt
1. Introduction

A/N: well, it's been a while. too long I'd say. I haven't quite finished this book as yet, but I like where it's going. I've missed writing Star Wars and, with such potent bantha fodder as Reylo hanging about, who wouldn't be tempted?

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**_The Wrong Side of Black_**

_He always imagined what her skin felt like beneath the calluses of his battle-worn hands. He had dreamt of this since the moment they met, since their minds became one, her thoughts interchangeable with his. The corner of his awareness rippled beneath the layer of black. It turned and rolled, shaking with the turbulent throes of a building quake. _

_Then they touched. _

_The darkness faded like night chased away from the dawn. Her eyes returned to life and focused on his. Starlite expanded between them until it was all he could do to hold her, cradle her, and simultaneously join in an embrace surpassing that of simple fantasy. Lips met. They pressed hungrily together, gasping for each other, as if the whole of the worlds could vanish in this eye blink of a moment and leave nothing but a vapid existence behind. _

_He might have stayed forever in this stillness if only . . . _

_If only the decision had been his to make. His body failed where his mind would not. He felt strength, life, and the flow of the Force fading from within him as the almighty blackness jarred into view once more. The sun was eclipsed by it. He fell, farther and farther until something cold and flat rose up to meet him. _

_He heard a scream. _

_Felt a burst of pain and explosion of cold radiate from the center of his being and push out until it was all he could feel. It was his everything._

_His mother . . . he thought . . . could he see her? Standing in some distant fade of blue light? He began to drift toward it . . . hand extended like he had so many times before. Reaching for something, for someone, waiting for him in that dark nothing of the beyond—_

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I'm going to gauge interest for this one, and depending on how that and reviews go is when i'll get the updates in


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Ben?" Rey whispered, leaning forward with her hand pressed against the still form. Her voice trembled in her throat. "Ben? Please—don't be—Ben? Can't you hear me?"

She could sense him slipping away from her and yet that strange feeling, that thrum of the Force within her was duller now, quiet as if a hand muffled it. Despite this she pressed her palm against the flat of his chest and drew what energy she could muster—only there was nothing to feel. Nothing to find. Nothing . . .nothing at all.

The Sith Citadel was bathed in bluish cold. Occasional bursts of flaming light crashed overhead as the sky exploded in the Final Order's destruction. The flashes were blinding. In their unrelenting glow, Rey was able to better see what had been hidden before. The citadel was collapsing around them. The coliseum of Sith ghosts and ghouls crumbled apart as if the entire planet had raised beneath their feet and came crashing back down once more. Massive carved sentries collapsed together. The floor itself caved.

Rey looked back to the figure beneath her. The man who was once Kylo Ren, whom she thought the Emperor had killed at last—

She paused.

_The Emperor **has** killed him_, she thought. In a way he had, for this man was no longer Kylo Ren and he never again would be. This was Ben, Ben Solo, and he was dying.

Even though the Force was dull and sluggish in her hand, she could at least sense the fading life within him. She saw the pool of blood filling the floor around her knees and knew at once it was coming from him.

"Hold on," she whispered, tearing at the strips of her clothes. "Hold on, Ben! Don't give up, not yet. Not after all this." She wadded the strips into her hand and pulled his shirt away. There against the smooth skin she could see the wound the fall into the abyss had created.

Another explosion. Another shock of light revealing once more that the very world around her was at risk any moment of shaking apart. She had to work fast or the both of them would be trapped in this Sith grave forever.

She pressed the balled cloth tight against him and closed her eyes in concentration.

"Come on, Ben," she pleaded, drawing tightly on that thin thread of connection still pulsing between them. She healed him once before, she could do it again.

The floor shook more violently now. A rift split the room in half as the ceiling now began to drop in great sheets of duracreet, metal, and carved stone. Down and down it came in raining shards until suddenly that battle above them began raining all around. Massive chunks of smoldering wreck. The wing of a tie fighter. The blazing mass of a juggernaut engine.

Try as she might, Rey couldn't pull that thread of the Force, couldn't drag from it the mass of energy she needed to flow from her and into him to stop the blood from pooling ceaselessly out of him.

Another slam of metal hit ground.

The already fractured floor gave way right beside her. Rey released a surprised cry and grabbed hold of Ben before he tumbled into the misty rift below. Time was up. They had to get out and either live, or die, in the process. Rey moved to her feet and grabbed Ben beneath the arms. She lifted, hauled, and stumbled until she found herself lying flat on her back with him splayed against her legs. Up again. Another fall. Up again, the world shuddered. Her muscles burned. Heart heaved in a painful chest. She forced herself first onto hands and knees then with all the effort left within her began dragging him toward the passage leading to their freedom.

She knew they wouldn't make it, knew the debris falling above would soon turn from hunks of blown off metal to full sized starships and bury them both. Her body was failing her even as she tried desperately to get them both out. Up the floating disk. Into the mists. Rey panted as she sat in the passage beneath the floating citadel. Ben lay unconscious beside her. Far, too far she realized, were the waiting X-wing and tie fighter parked in tandem. Rey looked down to the mat of black rivulets plastered against the pale face.

"Ben?" Rey whispered, brushing the hair away from his eyes. "Ben, can you hear me?"

Somewhere above them another explosion rippled the sky. She looked up, watching as that floating mountain hanging above their heads began to pull apart. On either side of them, great sheets of duracreet fell and blocked off all semblance of light. Only one path still remained, and that led to the ships.

Rey had already sapped whatever energy Ben gave her and yet despite it all, she began to crawl. Her fingers grasped the back of his shirt with one hand. The rest of her forced its way forward. Inches felt like hours to surpass. One hand. One step. One drag. One inch. On, she forced herself on, refusing to stop. Refusing to let go and leave the man behind to his fate. A streak of blood revealed their path as with unrelenting determination and pure will, she forced onward.

A final explosion. Even with the Force so fickle within her, Rey could feel it coming like a boulder weighing down her chest. She recoiled only a half second before the ceiling ahead of them caved in. She threw herself over Ben's prone form, dragged him into her, tucked down, and rode out the concussive blast which swept heat and fire over them both.

She lifted her eyes and confirmed it. The pathway to their last escape was blocked.

The air pulled from her lungs. "No," she gasped. "N—no! No! No!" Her eyes combed their surroundings looking for anything, the smallest hole, the nearest chance at escape and there she found what her heart already knew.

Nothing.

Trapped.

The Sith were dead at last and here were the last of the Jedi, the only heirs of the galaxy's history about to be entombed forever in the cursed halls of Exegol.

Rey shook her head despondently. "I don't know what to do . . ." she whispered. "Luke—Leia—I—" she swallowed, her throat tight with emotion. "I don't know what to do . . ."

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I realized the first intro was sort of short and leaving much to desire. Hopefully this helps.

as always, please review


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you for all the reviews. It's truly appreciated. I hope this story exceeds expectations

Chapter 2

"Get us closer to that Star Destroyer, Chewie! Not, that one, the one not currently exploding, there! - All right, hang on tight! - Get this one, fellas, and we'll take her down- One-Two- AHA! There she goes! -Pull up, pull up, let's go round for another pass and get on target for the next one.- Point on me, on three, ready? Punch it, Chewie!"

Lando Calrissian was an excellent pilot. A general of the war against the Empire, he'd been a smuggler for years and an entrepreneur of his own making ever since. He had in his pocket more than a few favors owed throughout the galaxy to some of the greatest, and least favorable, of circles. His proclivity at calling in all such favors for this particular feat would go down forever as the single greatest bribe in history.

It should come as no surprise that the Republic no longer existed in any logical or coordinated sense, having been completely destroyed by the First Order's Star Killer base. Wealthy lords, leaders, senators, and chancellors who might have stepped from those ashes to take charge of what fragmented alliances remained had been rounded up and subsequently executed by the Knights of Ren. Most of these individuals were in the pocket of one Lando Calrissian and his inter-galactic spice running and gas harvesting. Whether those leaders knew it or not.

In the leftovers of that destruction, Lando felt that he himself would soon become a target and so dove underworld. It was a second nature to him, an act he slipped into the way one might slip into a new pair of boots or, in this case, and old pair. A pair that fit naturally and smelled of old alliances built on blaster burns. Lando wrapped himself into that under dealing and succeeded in not only keeping himself alive, but also connected. For one day he knew this First Order was going to crumble. He knew it the way he knew the Empire would fall at the Rebel's hands, and he had enough sense then to pick the right side. Here again he found himself leading a fighting battalion of his own making, filled, sure, with loyalists seeking a better life on the other side of the First Order, but filled more with the people who owed him something. Those who were seeking to pay off a debt or keep out of a new one. Those too afraid of him to say no or those too afraid of what they owed the First Order to risk the fleet of a new Empire from taking flight.

It was these rag tag jumbles of space ruffians and cut throats which now descended like stinging hornets across the lands of Exegol. These raiders who would rather see the whole of the planet, its sun, and whatever else lay in its system turned into a blaze of ash and gravitational flux rather than risk loss. It made them careless. Dangerous. Even as the Empirical fleet fell still more of these rebel ships were also attacked either accidentally, or intentionally, by rival gangs or careless gunners. Lando wasn't about to stick around for the whole of the battle to see just who won in the end. Now that the Empire was fading into the scrap heaps of the world, he felt it was high time to turn tail and scamper off . . . in the most dignified way possible.

"Chewie, radio over to the Resistance attack team and tell them to head back for base," Lando instructed, setting the shield dampers on full and directing the ship toward the smoldering planet surface.

Chewbacca sent a series of excited barks back at him.

"I know what I'm doing. They can't track us if the shields are low, just keep an eye out to see if anyone of our friendly's is trying to get too friendly, get it? We'll slingshot to the dark side of this rock and head off ourselves. Tell Poe if he knows what's good for him, he'll get his team out and do the same. This place is going to fire up like a Sabaac game between Tuskan Raiders once that last ship goes down."

A blaze of blaster fire shot across the nose of the _Falcon_ and faded off into the distance.

Lando glanced at Chewie. "Guess the last ship's down."

Chewie fired back a nasty snarl and patched the comms into Poe's radioset to relay the message. Meanwhile, Lando did as he planned. He dropped the _Falcon_ down low in an impossible dive, screaming through the smoldering wreckage of a falling dreadnaught and dodging two warring tie fighters rushing in the opposite direction. Down, down, down they flew along the side of the black monolith. The forward shield peeling back in a mask of blue across the bow until they were fixed as low as Lando felt safe to let them.

They leveled out once they reached the planet's surface. Chewie checked the range finder and, thus far, no one had been crazy enough to follow them. He shot a noncommittal grumble at Lando.

"See," the general said, "I told you this would work. Now, as long as we don't get any new surprises, we'll get out of this with no problem at—"

Lando hadn't even finished his statement when a streak of blue light appeared in the edge of his vision. At first, he thought the shields were malfunctioning. Running them at low power to avoid detection ran the risk of losing them completely. But the color was wrong. More intense. He next assumed they'd been found out and blue canon fire had suddenly appeared over his right shoulder. As he turned to find the true source, though, he was caught up in an exclamation that choked in his throat. He shot out of his chair and nearly crawled onto the forward dash. The _Falcon_ lurched in response.

Chewie, roaring at him, got her back under control. He turned to admonish Lando, as he hadn't seen the light hovering beyond his massive, hairy shoulder. When he did . . . when his small eyes grew wide and his slow heart stopped cold, the Wookie rose to his feet.

A hand extended toward him encased in blue light. A hand barely formed, struggling in its very existence. Chewie's eyes followed the hand to the arm, arm to shoulder, shoulder to face.

"Leia," Lando muttered before Chewie could bare to form sound.

"There isn't much time," Leia's voice came to them, surrounding them as mist fills a closed box, "I have them . . . Luke and I have them, but there isn't much time. We're losing them unless you hurry."

Chewie uttered a whimper.

Leia's kind face softened. She took a small stride forward and set her fading hand along his hairy chin. He could feel her, not the way one feels a physical touch, but something else. Something warm and internal.

"Please," she whispered. "Hurry."

She faded and as suddenly as she came Leia's ghostly form was gone once more. Lando and Chewbacca were alone in the_ Millennium Falcon_, hovering only a few feet above the surface of Exegol.

Chewie moved first. He threw himself back into his seat. He reset the shield, punched the thrusters, and roared for Lando to get off the controllers. When the man didn't move fast enough, Chewie grabbed him by the cape's edge and dragged him off, not caring how heavily he hit the cockpit floor. The Wookie switched primary controls to his joystick and only moments after Leia vanished, they were rocketing into the shadows of the deep.

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_I wanted to do Lando a great deal of justice. I never thought that he might only get the most worthy or noble members of the galaxy to come along with him to fight a Sith war, and I hope you might agree._

_Please review._


	4. Chapter 3

_Thank you for another wonderful review round!_

_Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 3

Rey shook as another explosion rocked around them. She clung tighter to the bloody cloth between her fingers, eyes damp with the tears she couldn't prevent. The smoke swarmed around them in a torrent. Her throat burned with it. She pulled her sleeve over his mouth and nose to keep his lungs clear, even as shallow as he breathed beneath her.

The fires climbed around them and soon it would be over. The low ceiling above them would collapse along with everything else around them and then . . . it would end. Simply end. No rescue, no further journeys, no lasting barricade against the dark to come. They would be swathed together in the wrong side of the blackness which separates life and death like a mighty wall.

No one was coming.

She pressed her forehead against his. Her tears, forced out by unwilling emotion and smoke, dropped onto the scarred fissure of Ben's face. Her hands moved from the filthy cloth she tried to plug his wound with to the bedraggled black hair. Her fingers tightened in his wet locks.

It was coming.

She could feel the ripple in the Force of a world nearing the edge of existence. A plateau of some great change coming, the same change she'd felt only moments before life itself cleaved itself from the very fibers of her soul.

Despite herself, her body braced for it. Waiting with breath tight in her chest for that great abyss to creep over her once more and take her, and Ben, away from this life forever. She saw the next flash of light. Felt the world quake and at once exhaled what she thought must surely be her final breath.

Her mind unfocussed.

Unbidden images rushed in.

_Ben's hand extending to hers._

_The shock of red light from an untamed saber._

_A bare chest._

_Mirrors . . . _

_Halls and halls of mirrors._

It all came in an eyeblink of a moment and on its end, she felt her body lifting. Ben was falling out from under her. She fought. Fought to cling to him. Screamed, kicked, punched, grabbed hold of something soft-hairy-and tried to rip it apart with her bare hands. A creature roared in her ear loud enough and close enough to wake her from the half-dead state she'd fallen into. Through the smoke -filled gaze she looked up and saw not the face of death hovering ever closer to hers, but a face that was distinctly familiar and alive.

"Chewie?" she whispered.

Satisfied she wasn't going to rip his skin off, Chewie adjusted his hold on her and continued toward the _Millennium Falcon'_s ramp.

"No!" she exclaimed, coming back to herself. "No! No, we can't leave him! Chewie, stop! Stop, please!"

Chewbacca roared in her ear. From somewhere within the ship a second voice was shouting for them to either hurry or die.

"Chewie, please, we can't leave him!"

The Wookie slowed. Indecision plagued him as he glanced back at the black clad form lying so near death. This was the man who'd killed Chewie's best friend right in front of him. Evil incarnate. Sith born. Sith raised. Death and suffering in the physical form of a man, a man the Wookie himself might have killed given the chance and, very nearly had once already.

"Please," Rey begged, trying to force her way out of his arms to get to Ben for herself.

With a discontented grunt, Chewie seemed to relent. He turned and set Rey down on the gang plank, then ran back to where the limp form lay. None too gently, hauled him up. The plank closed. Rey watched in mystified shock as her rescuer marched by and deposited Ben unceremoniously onto the crew bed. Chewie turned back to hep Rey up, but a voice from the cockpit stopped him.

"Go," Rey said, trying to stand on her own. "I'm all right."

This was enough for him, who'd felt he'd done quite more than he intended already.

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_Please review._


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